


(so you better) keep your distance

by shineyma



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Hydra Grant Ward, Post-Season/Series 02, Ward x Simmons Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 06:49:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4009999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shineyma/pseuds/shineyma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since taking over HYDRA, Grant has developed a new sympathy for Coulson and his consistently disastrous plans.</p><p>[For the <b>Repel</b> theme at Ward x Simmons Summer.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	(so you better) keep your distance

**Author's Note:**

> I continue to be a failure at replying to comments. I'm sorry, I'm the worst.
> 
> As the summary says, this is a response to the WSSummer prompt _repel_. It got a little too long for tumblr, so up on AO3 it goes!
> 
> Title is from Homegrown's _Keep Your Distance_. Thanks for reading and, as always, please be gentle if you review!

Ever since taking over HYDRA, Grant has developed a new sympathy for Coulson and his consistently disastrous plans.

For the most part, things go better for Grant—because he’s a) actually capable of strategic thinking and b) not crippled by a bleeding-heart need to preserve life—but he’s learned that when things go wrong while running an entire organization, they go wrong in a very big way.

Today is a perfect example of that. What was _supposed_ to be a quick and easy infiltration went to hell nine hours and three states ago, and a whole string of misadventures followed, culminating in his current circumstances: stuck in a brawl in Coulson’s office at the Playground.

He’s got two of his best fighters with him, which is good, and Coulson only has Hunter, Fitz, and Simmons, which is even better. Still, things are getting iffy. The quarters are too close for anyone to use their guns, but Hunter and Coulson keep trading looks like they’re thinking of risking it anyway.

It’s time to wrap this up.

Weirdly, Simmons has spent the whole time hanging back in a corner, wringing her hands and watching worriedly. He doesn’t know what’s up with that—she definitely wasn’t hesitating to perpetrate violence against unsuspecting men the _last_ time they met—but it works to Grant’s advantage. She’s so distracted watching the others fight (seriously, Fitz nearly lost an eye just now; _why_ is she still in the corner?) that she doesn’t see him until he’s nearly on top of her.

When she does, her eyes go wide. “What—?”

He doesn’t give her time to finish her question. He yanks her in front of him, turns to face the room, and presses the barrel of his gun to her right temple as he shouts Coulson’s name.

It…doesn’t get the reaction he’s expecting.

Well, it does and it doesn’t. As expected, it brings the action in the room to a halt. What he’s not expecting is that, rather than angry or frightened, Fitz, Hunter, and Coulson look stunned.

“I think you know how this goes,” he says, deciding to ignore that for the moment. “Weapons down.”

None of them move.

“Weapons down,” he repeats, pressing his gun a little harder against Simmons’ temple. He’s got her so close he can _feel_ her breath hitch. “Or you’re gonna be cleaning Simmons’ genius brain off the walls.”

“Okay,” Coulson says. He sets his gun down slowly, and, reluctantly, Hunter follows suit. “There’s no need to do anything drastic, Ward.”

“No?” he asks, and nods at Fitz. “You too, Fitz.”

Fitz doesn’t even seem to hear him. “Simmons, how—?”

“I’ve no idea,” Simmons says, sounding more resigned than scared. “But it just bloody figures, doesn’t it?”

He’s clearly missing something, but figuring it out can wait until he’s got complete control of the room.

“Fitz,” he says. “Put the pipe down. Now.”

“Oh,” Fitz says, jolting a little and looking down at the pipe in question like he’s forgotten he’s holding it. “Right, right.” He sets it down gently on the ground.

Grant jerks his chin at Tamble and Hicks, who chorus, “Sir!” and leave the room at a run. They’ll take care of securing an exit route; Grant can deal with these four alone.

“Kick it away,” he orders, including Coulson and Hunter with a look.

Two guns and one pipe go skidding across the floor—in varying distances; Grant makes a mental note to shoot Coulson first if this goes south, since his gun will still be in reach if he lunges—and Grant relaxes a bit.

“That’s better,” he says. He might have leverage in the form of Simmons, but he’s not in a great position, trapped in this corner. He urges her forward, intending to move closer to the door, but only makes it three steps before he’s forced to stop.

Well, not so much _forced to stop_ as his feet just kind of stop working for a second while he struggles to understand what he just saw.

“Um…?”

Simmons sighs heavily. “Well, that answers that question. It still works, just not on _you_.”

Any other time, he’d be impressed by how much disgust and loathing she manages to fit into such a short word, but right now he’s still trying to get his head around the way Coulson, Hunter, and Fitz just got thrown against the walls.

“Of all the possible people for it _not_ to work on,” Hunter grouses, pushing himself into a sitting position. “It had to be Ward? Really, Simmons?”

“Do you honestly believe you can be even a fraction as upset by this as I am?” Simmons asks. “Do you?”

“Let’s not start this again,” Coulson says, getting slowly to his feet. “Fitz? You okay?”

Fitz grumbles something uncomplimentary, but sits up easily enough.

“Does anyone wanna tell me what just happened?” Grant demands.

“No,” Simmons says flatly. “No, we do not.”

He pointedly tightens his arm around her waist and feels her flinch. “Tell me anyway.”

“Fine,” she says. “If you must know, I was exposed to an alien artifact, and ever since, anyone who gets within one and three-quarter meters of me is violently repelled.” She sighs, aggrieved. “Aside from you, apparently.”

Well. That’s…different.

“What kind of alien artifact?” he asks, wary. If it’s Asgardian, he might just shoot her and have done with it.

“What’s it to you?” Hunter demands. “What are you even doing here?” His eyes narrow. “If you think we’re going to let you—”

Grant tunes out his threats—pretty much a rerun of everything he said when Grant first showed up here—in favor of evaluating the situation. Simmons is tense against him, but not in a way that suggests she’s preparing to try anything. Not a surprise, if she knows for a fact that none of her team are gonna be able to get near her to render assistance if he gets violent; even if she manages to disarm him somehow…well, he doesn’t need a weapon to kill her, and she’s gotta know that.

So do the other three, which is why they’re so on edge. Again, easily explained: he could holster his gun and tie one hand behind his back, and they still wouldn’t be able to do anything. Not while he’s got Simmons keeping them more than five feet away.

Actually…

All three of them are on their feet now, and they’ve come forward from where they were thrown against the walls. They’re spaced kind of randomly around the room—Fitz nearest to the door, Hunter the far wall, and Coulson the window—but they’re equidistant from Simmons.

If this has been affecting her for a while, they’re probably pretty used to leaving exactly enough space not to get repelled.

He can use that.

“You know,” he says, interrupting Hunter. “This has been fun and all, but I’ve got places to be and things to do.”

“That’s fine,” Coulson says, raising his hands placatingly. “So do we. Just let Simmons go, and we can all go our separate ways, no harm done.”

“Yeah.” He sucks in a breath between his teeth, feigning an apologetic grimace. “That doesn’t really work for me.”

Fitz has figured him out; Grant can tell by the way his eyes go wide. “Ward, don’t—”

In one smooth motion, Grant removes his arm from Simmons’ waist, grips her by the shoulder, and gives her a hard shove. She manages to keep her feet, but, caught off-guard, stumbles forward—decreasing the distance between her and the others to well below her limit.

Whether because she gets closer this time or because she doesn’t stop moving as soon as her little trick takes effect, Hunter, Fitz, and Coulson are repelled even more violently than the first time—so strongly that they’re lifted off their feet by the force of it. Simmons cries out as they hit the walls, and all three crumple to the ground.

None of them get up.

“Well,” Grant says, and holsters his gun. “That’s a neat trick.”

Simmons ignores him. She’s just standing there, wringing her hands. Her trick must even affect people who are unconscious; it’s the only explanation for why she’s not running to check on the other three.

As to why it doesn’t affect him…well, who knows. But he’s not gonna look a gift horse in the mouth.

It would be interesting to see how long it takes her to remember that he’s still here and still a threat, but unfortunately he doesn’t have all day.

“Simmons,” he says. She continues to ignore him. “ _Simmons_.”

“What now?” she demands, whirling to face him. “Haven’t you done enough?” Her hands fist at her side, and for a second he can see her considering making a move. But she’s smarter than that; she’s got no weapons to speak of, and even the idea that she might be able to take him in hand-to-hand is laughable. “Just _leave_ , already.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” he says. “I’m definitely leaving.” He closes the distance between them in one stride, catching her by the arm before she can back away. “But you’re coming with me.”

“Let go!” she orders, trying to shove him away. “I am not going _anywhere_ with you!”

“Yes, you are.” He grabs her other arm, stilling her, and blocks the knee she aims to his groin with his thigh. “Calm down, Simmons.”

“I will _not_ calm down, you—”

He gives her a firm shake—not enough to hurt, just enough to startle her into silence—and then turns her to face her unconscious teammates. She tenses as he leans down to speak in her ear.

“Right now, Fitz, Coulson, and Hunter are alive. They’re unconscious, but they’re breathing.” Her own breath catches as he digs his fingers into her arms, just a little, to emphasize his point. “We both know how quickly I can change that. Come with me, and I won’t have to.”

She’s quiet for a long moment.

“What do you want with me?” she asks eventually.

He smiles to himself. “What _don’t_ I want with you?”

A shield to use against SHIELD—a valuable hostage, someone that just about everyone he wants to hurt loves dearly—and one they won’t be able to mount a rescue for. Not when they can’t even be in the same room as her. It’ll drive them crazy, knowing that he’s got her but not being able to do anything about it. Not to mention the fact that, as long as he keeps her near, they won’t be able to get to _him_ , either.

To say nothing of how _useful_ that trick of hers is. If his scientists can figure out how to harness it, how to recreate the effect using technology…

The possibilities are endless.

“So?” he asks, easing his hold on her. “Are you coming?”

She breathes in slowly. “You know I am.”

“Yeah.” He lets go of her only long enough to wrap his arm around her shoulders—partly to keep her close, but mostly because of how clearly it bothers her. What can he say, he’s holding a grudge. “I know.”

He steers her out of the office, into the hallway, and finds Tamble waiting just outside the door. Simmons stops in her tracks as they draw even with him, eyes going wide.

“No,” she says. “That is not possible.”

Grant laughs. “Guess your alien artifact’s a fan of HYDRA.”

Two people is hardly conclusive _proof_ that her trick doesn’t work on HYDRA agents, but judging from that conversation earlier, Grant was the first person not to be affected by it. And now here’s another, who just happens to work for him.

He’s got no idea why that would be a factor—why she would repel all of her friends and none of her enemies—but it’ll definitely make life easier if her trick doesn’t work on his people.

“Shut _up_ ,” Simmons snaps, and stomps on his foot.

It doesn’t hurt all that much—he’s wearing sturdy boots and she’s just got Converse, not to mention lacking force—but it makes Tamble go pale. He obviously thinks he’s about to see Simmons brutally murdered, and for a HYDRA agent, he’s weirdly squeamish about violence against women.

It’ll probably get him killed one day—God knows very few of SHIELD’s women are squeamish about violence against _men_ —but for now, it’s a pretty amusing quirk, so Grant tolerates it.

“Don’t worry,” he says. “Jemma and I are old friends. She can get away with that kind of stuff.”

Simmons scoffs, and while he’s sure whatever she’s got to say next (even odds whether it’s regarding the friends label or what she’d like to get away with) will be fun, they’re kind of on a time limit.

“You get us an exit?” he asks Tamble.

“Yes, sir.” Tamble motions down the hall. “Hicks has a Quinjet waiting.”

“Good work,” Grant says, because positive reinforcement is important when it comes to things like getting them out of enemy strongholds with as little fuss as possible. “Lead the way.”

“You can let go of me, now,” Simmons says as they follow Tamble. “I’ve already agreed to come with you.”

He knows what she’s up to. She’s had more than a year to learn this base, whereas this is only his second visit as a free man. If he lets go of her, she’ll take off, and if she actually gets out of his reach, she could lead him in circles for as long as it takes May to get back.

And he could tell her that he knows what she’s planning and that’s why he hasn’t let go of her…but where’s the fun in that?

“Nah,” he says, and toys with her hair. “I like your haircut, by the way. I don’t know that I ever said.”

“Yours looks ridiculous,” she mutters, and subsides into a sulky silence as they reach the hangar.

He grins and steers her into the Quinjet, laughing under his breath when Hicks, too, fails to be repelled.

Things are looking up.


End file.
